Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (23 page)

Helen looked at Benita in awe. She
seemed so calm and relaxed, standing beneath the olive tree,
looking like she should be modelling clothes in a catalogue.
I
can’t imagine having three children, two of them twins, and looking
anything other than harassed and haggard.

She glanced over at Marcio and felt a
jolt pierce through her as she met his intense blue eyes. She had
expected his attention to be on Benita, not fixed unwaveringly on
her. His expression was inscrutable but something about it made
Helen feel hot, despite the shade of the olive tree. Lost in his
eyes, Helen didn’t notice when Benita discreetly walked away,
leaving the two of them alone under the tree.

Chapter
Nine

Dropping Helen back at her hotel later
that evening Marcio realised he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her
for good. He didn’t know what his feelings were exactly; after Mia
he didn’t trust himself or his ability to read women
. How can
you get as far as the altar and not realise your fiancée is
gay?
The only thing he felt certain of was that, for a blissful
few hours, he hadn’t felt like his life was devoid of hope.

As Helen bent forward to find something
in her bag, Marcio stared straight ahead out of the windscreen,
hands gripping the steering wheel. He tried hard not to notice the
shape of Helen’s breasts, or the way they rose and fell with her
breathing.

“What time is your flight
tomorrow?”

Helen’s voice was muffled as she
continued to rummage. “It’s 6p.m., although as I haven’t hired a
car I’ll be starting out for the airport considerably earlier than
that.”

“I have a proposition for you,”

Helen stopped searching through her bag
for her hotel key and turned to look at Marcio, eyebrows raised in
mute question.

Marcio took a deep breath and directed
a silent stream of invectives at his errant body. Trying to lighten
the tension building in him, he grinned at Helen. “Not that sort of
proposition. Merely that it would be a shame for you to come to
Barcelona and not get out on the water. I’m taking the boat out
first thing; come have brunch with me and I’ll drop you at the
airport in plenty of time for your flight.”

Helen found her search for the key
hampered by the trembling in her hands. Her lungs felt constricted
and it was suddenly a challenge to breathe. Sitting back in her
chair she willed herself not to blush and tried to formulate a
response to Marcio’s invitation. All she wanted was to get to her
room and analyse her jumbled emotions. The idea of spending time
alone, far from land, in reach of his toned, tanned, body left her
feeling weak and giddy.

Am I going to be able to keep my
hands off him if there are no sisters looking on? Maybe his family
are coming? Of course, that’s it; it will be another family thing,
like today.
It would be nice to spend a day at sea and I
won’t have to get myself to the airport.

Noticing the troubled look creeping
into his blue eyes as she hesitated Helen came to a decision.

“Sure,” she tried for a nonchalant
tone, but her voice sounded shrill. If he noticed, Marcio was too
much of a gentleman to comment.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 9am if
that’s not too early?”

“Are you being funny? Already these
darlings,” she patted her expanding tummy, “ensure that Mummy is up
with the sun. I’ll be packed and waiting in the lobby. I’m
travelling light so hopefully it won’t be a problem stowing my bag
on the boat.”

Marcio’s smile was intriguing, “No,
that won’t be a problem.”

As she got herself ready for bed, Helen
replayed in her mind Marcio leaning over to kiss her goodbye. It
was only a peck on the cheek but, holding her hand against the spot
now, she could still feel the sensations it had ignited in her. She
was scared to think of the implications of meeting him. Most men
would run a mile rather than date a pregnant woman but she sensed
Marcio was different. Certainly he was very natural in his role as
Uncle Marcio.

It was far too early to hope that he
might embrace her babies as well as her, but she had to admit he
did seem to like her. The look in his eyes when he had leaned over
to kiss her had sent shivers through her, chilling her despite the
warmth in the car. His blue eyes were ocean deep with desire and it
seemed only a last minute decision that caused the kiss to land on
her cheek. She hoped the change of heart was merely temporary as
already she yearned to be with him again.

Eyes heavy with sleep, Helen snuggled
into her flat pillow as best she could and dreamed of a future
where Marcio’s smile wrapped her in warmth and protected her from
life’s bumpy road.

On the other side of town Marcio’s night
was less restful. He had been tempted to go back to the vineyard
after returning Helen to her hotel, but he was booked into the
Hotel Arts for the night and decided he needed the peace and space,
away from his prying sisters, to muddle through the mess of
thoughts and emotions tangled in his brain.

Yesterday I was sworn off women for
life and suddenly I’m not just attracted to a gorgeous woman, but
one who is expecting someone else’s children. Marcio, you are
priceless.

No longer able to deny the desire
flooding through him, Marcio tried to make sense of the jumble of
images in his mind.

The image that disturbed him most was
one of him taking care of Helen and the twins, shielding them from
harm.
I never had myself down as a knight in shining armour. I’m
not sure it fits well with itinerant writer.
Still, the picture
of him holding the twins, smiling that proud smile he’d seen his
brother-in-laws wear, was as clear as a photograph in his head.
Losing Mia had raised the awful prospect that he might never have
children of his own.

Even if the twins weren’t his, he could
imagine that, in time, he could love them as his own. Parenting was
as much nurture as genetics after all. Not for the first time
Marcio cursed his brain’s way of taking any given situation all the
way to a conclusion.
Helen’s only six months pregnant, anything
could happen in that time.

He couldn’t ignore the hollow space
inside him that still carried the chill of the church.
What if
Helen decides to go back to the bastard who sired her children?
Hormones can do funny things to women. Look at my sisters and all
the crazy things they did when pregnant. What if I let her in, only
to be left looking like an idiot again? How much worse would it be
if I lost the twins too, having brought them up as mine?

The same doubt had surged through him
in the car when he’d felt his body leaning in to kiss her
goodnight. Settling for a peck on the cheek, he’d been mortified to
realise he was no better than any other shmuck, letting the
yearnings of his body erase rational thought.

He could feel his body betraying him
again now, as he remembered Helen at the party.
She seems
oblivious to how sexy she is in that sun dress, all undulating
curves and sweet-smelling skin.
He grimaced as he remembered
how hard it had been to keep the car on the road, with her scent
filling the space between them. He found he couldn’t bear the
thought of her returning to London without him.

Get a grip Marcio, you’ve known her
less than two days and she’s pregnant with twins. Even if she feels
the same as you, and that is certainly not clear, this isn’t a mad
holiday romance. Besides, ready or not, she is about to have her
life changed forever. Are you sure you want to be a part of
that?

The writer in him wanted to know where
this story was going, to follow it through to the dramatic
conclusion, the hopeful happy ever after.
Life isn’t like that
though
, he mused, as he headed for bed.
Happy ever afters
are just stories that haven’t finished yet.

With a mood to reflect the grey dusky
sea outside his window, Marcio sank into a troubled sleep.

Chapter
Ten

“Jesus!”

Marcio couldn’t hide his grin at her
response. Like a proud parent he never tired of people’s reactions
when they saw
Marisol
.

“Not a problem stowing my bag then.”
Helen’s mind reeled at the size of the yacht moored in Barcelona
harbour. She could fit the contents of her entire apartment in the
hold. It wasn’t a flashy gin palace; it was a proper old fashioned
fishing boat, in the process of being renovated.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she.” Marcio couldn’t
hold his pride in any longer. He moved towards the yacht, securing
the gang plank for Helen to come aboard.

“She’s a bit tatty,” he added
apologetically, although Helen sensed he didn’t really believe his
own words. To him she was an America’s Cup specimen. She could see
by the evidence of work in progress that he obviously lavished much
love and attention on her.

“Have you renovated her yourself?”
Helen knew the answer, but wasn’t sure what else to say. “How do
you find the time?”

“I’ve had her for a year or two now and
I come out for a few weeks in the summer to concentrate on fixing
her up. She actually lives up the coast – I can’t afford the
mooring fees here in the harbour – but I brought her down early
this morning as it’s easier to get on board here.”

“Is it just us?” Helen looked around,
still half-hopeful that she might see Marcio’s sisters heading
their way.

“Yes, just us. Those of my family not
forced to rise with the toddlers this morning won’t be up until
noon.” He loaded Helen’s small suitcase, and the picnic hamper he’d
brought, onto deck and looked back to see Helen standing immobile.
“Is that okay?” His face was flooded with sudden concern, like a
boy who had been told he’d answered the wrong question in an
exam.

Helen swallowed the emotions
threatening to engulf her. It was more than okay to her but she was
conscious of standing atop a slippery hill, worried one wrong step
would see her flat on her back sliding to oblivion.
I might
fancy him but isn’t life complicated enough already?

He was standing beside her now, too
close for coherent thought. Looking up she saw his blue eyes dark
with worry and something more besides, something like
affection.

Marcio unconsciously reached out and
took Helen’s hand, leaving her fizzing with warm fluttery feelings.
“We can do something else if you’d rather? Are you worried the sea
will make you poorly?”

Helen laughed suddenly. “Thankfully
those days are behind me. Three months ago I wouldn’t have even
been able to stand on this pontoon.” As she said the words she
became aware of the wooden walkway swaying beneath her feet. It
really was a beautiful day. The skies were clear, but it was too
early to be hot, and a gentle breeze cooled her skin and caused the
boats to sway and tug at their moorings, eager to be off.

She didn’t remember the last time she
was out on a proper boat, rather than a floating restaurant on the
Thames. How long had it been? Not since she was a child, when Simon
would row her out to sea and scare her by diving overboard and
leaving her adrift. She smiled ruefully at the memory.

Shaking off any trepidation at being
alone with Marcio, she looked up into his face and squeezed his
hand. “It’s fine, I’m looking forward to it. I don’t know how to
sail though; will you need me to do anything?”

Releasing the breath he hadn’t been
aware of holding, Marcio’s face un-creased and he gave a little
skip, tugging Helen behind him towards the yacht.

“No, no help required. I can sail
Marisol
in my sleep. Besides, it’s a calm day so we’ll
probably cheat.”

Helen gave him a puzzled look.

“It has an engine too.”

Half an hour later they had left the
harbour and were chugging slowly along the coast line. It was such
a different way to see the city; Helen welcomed the opportunity to
take some additional pictures to include with her bundle on the
festival. Then she swung round and took some of Marcio at the helm,
a look of deep concentration lending him an unexpected gravitas.
She thought he looked completely natural, as if this was the only
place on earth he truly belonged. It made her a little sad; he
seemed in a place she couldn’t reach him. What did she know about
sailing?

Then he looked up and caught her
watching. All signs of seriousness vanished as he gave a cheeky
salute. Suddenly he was the little boy again, borrowing his
father’s car and taking it for a spin without permission. Helen
marvelled at how many sides there were to this man. She thought
about Daniel, about how all he ever talked and cared about was his
job. She had been drawn to it, in the beginning, finding his drive
and passion supremely attractive. But there had been no humour, she
realised now, no time when he let the cares of adult life drop away
and remembered what it was to be five. It had made her serious too,
as if she needed to live up to his example. Now she felt a
silliness emerge from within her that yearned to match Marcio
giggle for giggle.

Stowing her camera in its case and
wrapping it securely in a waterproof cover, Helen kicked off her
shoes and padded over to Marcio. Her tummy gave a gurgle and she
realised it was time to eat.

“The babies are hungry,” she said, as
she stood close behind his shoulder, following his gaze along the
coast. Her arms twitched, longing to wrap themselves around his
torso, to bathe in the heady mixture of sweat and scent wafting
towards her on the breeze. She pulled her fingers into fists and
settled for enjoying the warmth emanating from him, careful not to
brush against him with her bump.

“Then we had better feed them,” he
responded, glad for an excuse to put some space between them before
he lost control. Marcio turned down the engine and brought the boat
to a stop in the water. He waiting while
Marisol
drifted a
little into the shore before unhitching the anchor and dropping it
into the azure water. It took a while before it hit bottom and
Helen was surprised that the water was so much deeper than it
appeared. She could see the sand glinting in the mid-morning sun as
the rays penetrated the waves and set the sea alive with colour. It
was a million miles from the greyness of her life two days ago and
she wondered what the price to be paid would be.